Seven husbands and a son
by MrsRegulusBlack123
Summary: By the time Ms. Zabini reached her seventh marriage, she was no longer sure why she kept getting married time and time again. It was a habit, she supposed. Or an addiction. Sequel to "The first husband".


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (obviously).**

**A/N: Hello everyone! This story is the sequel to my other story "The first husband" but it can be read alone if you want to.**

**Anyway, enjoy and please leave a review!**

* * *

Ms. Zabini's first husband was the love of her life.

He was a pureblood, a Slytherin, and had a _very _pretty face. She had only known him for two short years before he died, but those two years had been more than enough time for her to fall so completely in love with him that sometimes she thinks she still loves him. Even now, after all these years, memories of him sometimes haunt her dreams.

Her first husband had been 17 years old, barely out of Hogwarts, when she had married him. She had been 19. They had been young and in love, and above all else, a war had been hanging above their heads as a grim reminder that anything could happen. Getting married had seemed like a great idea at the time.

For a short while it had seemed like nothing could go wrong and she had thought she was settled for life. She was rich, married to a man she loved, and would one day be the mother of a pureblood heir. They would live out their lives in his ancestral home, and have children and grandchildren and even after their deaths, their names would forever be connected to each other on that tapestry his mother was oh so fond of.

It was silly of her to think that, she now thinks. After all, Regulus Black didn't even live long enough to celebrate one year of marriage.

The one man she had ever loved with all of her heart had disappeared overnight, and there was nothing Ms. Zabini could've done to stop it.

…

_The first time Blaise asked her why he had no father, he was two years old._

_She had been unprepared for the question and it hit her like a thousand bricks. Looking into those eyes, those big, innocent, grey eyes- the same eyes that his father had had too- Ms. Zabini realized she didn't know what to tell him._

_So she went for the truth._

"_Daddy's dead, honey."_

…

Her second husband was American.

He was blonde and blue-eyed and nothing at all like young, pretty, Regulus Black. She picked him because she thought her son needed a father figure in his life.

Robert was a good man, always smiling, good with children and rather handsome too. He was funny, and witty, and knew how to play the piano. It didn't hurt that he was a pureblood either. She told herself that that was good enough- he didn't have to be the _purest of the pure_, and she didn't have to love him.

He would always play games with Blaise, and create funny lights and shapes with his wand. He'd tell her son bedtime stories after tucking him in and give him sweets when she had already said that, _no Blaise, you've already had enough_. He would smile and say, _Oh come on, what's one more?_ and then Blaise would look at her with that pleading look he was so good at giving her and she'd grudgingly let him have one more. _But only one._

It was Robert that bought Blaise his first toy broomstick, and as the little boy zoomed around the living room on it, looking like he was having the time of his life, Ms. Zabini congratulated herself on a job well done.

It was a few months later that the fights began.

It started with a question here or there, _who was that owl from? _Or _where were you? _And at first Ms. Zabini didn't pay it much attention. But soon these questions were coming all the time, and next thing she knew, he was trying to read her mail.

"Who is Horace Slughorn?" He asked her one night after Blaise had gone to bed. She hadn't thought about how he'd come across that name- didn't occur to her that by all accounts, since he hadn't even gone to Hogwarts, he couldn't have known that name. She had shrugged, and told him the truth.

"An old professor of mine. Taught potions at Hogwarts."

"Why on Earth would an old teacher of yours be inviting you to a party?"

"Because that's what he does, Robert. Can't you see that I'm trying to write a letter here?"

He hadn't liked that, and the fight that followed had only been the first of many.

_Whose owl was that? Who is Jason? Am I not enough for you? Why don't you love me?_

It was on a night like that one, while they were having a fight that had started in a very similar fashion to their first one, that Robert tripped and fell down the stairs and broke his neck. It was an accident, and neither of them were to blame.

…

"_Mother?" A five-year-old Blaise tugged at her robe, and Ms. Zabini couldn't help but smile as she paused in the task of putting on her silver earring. She turned away from her reflection in the mirror so she could look at the child standing next to her._

"_Yes, Blaise?"_

"_Are you going out again?"_

_She nodded._

"_I am. Binky will look after you until I'm back." She ran her long, slender fingers through her son's hair, and when she was satisfied with how it looked, she smiled. "Depending on how things go, you might get to meet my new... friend soon."_

"_Friend?" Blaise tilted his head. He was such an adorable kid._

"_Yes, baby. He'll be your new stepdaddy."_

"_Like the blonde man in your photos?"_

_Ms. Zabini smiled._

"_Like the blonde man in my photos."_

…

Her third husband was older than the others had been.

He'd been in his early 40s, and Ms. Zabini met him at a party at Malfoy manor one night. She saw the way he was looking at her, just as she saw the expensive material his robes were made of. She saw the rings on his fingers and she _knew _that this one was rich.

It was the first time Ms. Zabini married a man for the money.

After marrying him, Ms. Zabini and Blaise moved in with him. Husband number 3 didn't own an estate, or a manor like most of her suitors did- no, he was special. Husband number 3 owned a _castle_. It was a small one, nowhere near as big as Hogwarts, but who was she to complain about that? A castle was a castle.

Husband number 3 was an old school pureblood. He reminded her of her first parents-in-law in that respect.

At dinners they sat at a table way too long for three people, and he kept reprimanding Blaise for not sitting up straight, or for talking to much.

And it wasn't limited to just dinner either- every day, every hour, every moment of Blaise's life at his castle, Husband number 3 seemed to have something to tell him off for.

_Don't slouch, boy. You don't want to look like a common mudblood, now do you?_

_Blaise! What have I told you about running indoors?_

_For Merlin's sake, do something worthwhile instead of wasting your time and my writing material on these scribbles you call drawings!_

_Be quiet, Blaise. Children are to be seen, not heard._

And then one night, when she had left him alone with Blaise in order to go pick up some newly tailored robes from Madam Malkin's, Ms. Zabini discovered another thing, and that was the last straw.

She had been looking for her son in order to get him to bed when she found them sitting in Husband number 3's office. Husband number 3's sleeve was rolled up, and on the pale skin of his forearm, Ms. Zabini realized in a wave of horror, the Dark Mark was.

She didn't need to listen to know what he was telling her son, and Ms. Zabini was _furious._

She tried to leave that very night, and there was a lot of screaming and fighting, and several curses being flung on both ends, but he just _wouldn't let go_.

Husband number 3 lasted for a whole of three weeks before he one night fell dead over his cup of afternoon tea.

Ms. Zabini didn't want her son to have anything to do with the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters. She had lost Regulus to the Dark Lord, and she would not allow her _son _to meet the same fate.

…

"_Mother loves you, Blaise... you know that, right?" Ms. Zabini asked as she stood in front of her son, that special smile she only reserved for him gracing her lips._

_The 9-year-old boy standing in front of her nodded, and his mother pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear._

"_Good... now let's go pick you out whatever you want for your birthday."_

_She got up, but before she could leave, Blaise was pulling at the tip of her robes again- a habit he hadn't quite broken yet._

"_Mother?"_

"_Yes, sweetheart?"_

"_I love you too."_

…

After the disaster that had been Husband number 3, Ms. Zabini decided that she wanted a change, something entirely different from the life she had lead this far.

Her fourth husband was a mudblood, and half of the reason why Ms. Zabini had chosen him out of all her other suitors, was because she knew Husband number 3 would be turning in his grave if he knew.

(And if Narcissa Malfoy gave her a disgusted look as she walked by, who cared? The time when they used to be friends was long gone.)

Husband number 4 was a quidditch player (a seeker, just like Regulus had been), and the moment Ms. Zabini had laid her eyes upon him, grinning at his fans and running a hand through his fiery-red hair, she knew that it was _him _she wanted.

They officially met each other at the 1990 Quidditch World Cup and by the time morning came, their pictures were all over the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. By the end of the month, they were married.

Ms. Zabini's fourth husband was a couple of years younger than herself and had a mischievous grin that practically yelled 'Gryffindor'. The first time Blaise met him, he crossed his arms and glared.

_I don't like him. _Was all he said before turning around and stomping off.

He took them to France, Mexico, Canada, the United States, China, Egypt and Greece. To Romania, Germany, Thailand, Russia and Italy. Husband number 4 loved traveling, and even Blaise couldn't say no to free trips to faraway places.

Slowly, her son seemed to warm up to Husband number 4, what with his brilliant smile and playful tricks.

When September 1st came around, they saw off Blaise at Platform 9 and ¾. She hugged and kissed him and, jokingly, Husband number 4 told Blaise to get sorted into Gryffindor. Blaise's snakry reply made all of them laugh, and for a moment Ms. Zabini thought that they actually looked like a family.

It came as no particular surprise to either of them when Blaise sent them a letter the next morning to inform them that he had in fact been sorted into Slytherin, and not Gryffindor.

A year and a half of marriage ended when Husband number 4 took a bludger to his head during a friendly game of Quidditch against Denmark. He fell off his broom and died from the impact.

Ms. Zabini gained a nickname after that- the Black Widow.

...

_The first time Blaise brought a friend home from school was during Christmas break._

_His name was Theodore Nott, and Ms. Zabini knew who his father was without even looking at his face. She disliked him on principle, for who (_what_) his father was, but then she met the boy, quiet, polite and very smart, and she couldn't help but like him._

_Theodore was a thin, tall boy with wiry black hair and a complexion so pale he sometimes gave her a scare in the dark. He liked reading, especially history books, and absolutely _loathed _herbology. He was a Slytherin, just like Blaise, and was on first-name basis with several of the Hogwarts ghosts. (The way he referred to the Baron as Cornelius would never stop catching her off guard- she hadn't even known his name was Cornelius!)._

_When Theodore visited them again halfway through the summer holidays, Ms. Zabini didn't miss the bruises, or the way he seemed to avoid her eyes when she asked him about them._

_Her blood boiled, and she vowed that if she ever got her hands on Mr. Nott the two of them would have a _talk_._

_From then on, Theodore became a regular at the Zabini mansion. He spent every holiday and break with them, and when his birthday came around, Ms. Zabini made sure to send him plenty of muffins (his favourite) and a nice present._

…

Ms. Zabini's fifth husband was 78 years old when she married him.

He was a retired ministry official living in the outskirts of Cardiff and she chose him for the riches he had stashed at Gringotts.

Blaise never met him, because he had a heart attack fifteen days after their wedding.

…

_With the money she got from her fifth husband's inheritance, Ms. Zabini bought a castle._

_It was her second time living in one (well, third if you counted Hogwarts), but this time around was nothing like the others._

_Her castle was much more beautiful and open than Husband number 3's had ever been, and she had no less than five house elves at her beck and call. Everywhere there were crystal chandeliers, floors covered in expensive carpets and large windows hidden behind silken curtains. Her bedroom overlooked the massive rose gardens, and Blaise had a very nice view of the lake._

_If there was something Ms. Zabini was sure of, it was this: She had come a long way, and she had _finally_ made it in life._

_She was richer than she could've ever dreamed of when she started out as a drunk's daughter who'd rather spend his money on firewhiskey than pay the bills, and she loved it._

_Ms. Zabini threw glamorous parties almost every week and everybody who was somebody was invited. High-ranked ministry officials, purebloods, famous quidditch players and potioneers, everybody was there._

_It was actually on one of those nights that Ms. Zabini found her son holed up in the corner of their massive library. Blaise didn't usually care much for reading, which made his presence there suspicious enough as it was, but there was also the fact that a party going on downstairs. And Blaise loved parties- especially the ones where pretty girls (and boys) were present._

"_Is everything alright, sweetheart?" She asked, slipping inside the library and soundlessly closing the door behind her._

_When she received no reply, Ms. Zabini walked over to Blaise, curiously peering over his shoulder to take a look at what he was holding._

_It was a newspaper clipping, a very old one at that._

"_Where did you get that?" She hadn't meant to sound that choked up, really. It was just that it had been a really long time since she had seen that face._

_Pale, fair skin. High cheekbones. Dark hair. Gray eyes (the same as Blaise's). And that smile- that smile that had always made her stomach do these weird little flip-flops._

It was Regulus.

_A picture of her and Regulus at their wedding. Her first wedding._

_Nothing could have prepared her for the question her son asked next._

"_Did you kill him?"_

"_... What?"_

"_This... Regulus. He's my father, isn't he? It says here that he was the heir of an ancient pureblood family. He was your first husband." He lifted his eyes, and as they settled on her, Ms. Zabini felt as though she had been doused in a bucket of icy water. "Did you kill him?"_

_She thought of Regulus, of the way he would always twirl his wand around his fingers when he was thinking, or nervous. The way he would kiss her- more real and passionate than any of her other husbands. The way he would play with her hair when he couldn't sleep at night. She thought of how much she missed him._

"_No." She spoke, her eyes meeting Blaise's and holding his gaze. "No, I didn't. I could never kill him."_

_Blaise didn't ask if she had killed any of her other husbands (only one, the rest were all bizarre accidents), or what had happened to Regulus._

_Apparently, the reply she gave him was good enough for Blaise._

…

It wasn't until after his death, that Ms. Zabini found out her sixth husband was, in fact, a journalist.

They got married halfway through Blaise's fourth year at Hogwarts and the tragedy that befell him three months into their marriage was a muggle illness none of the healers at St. Mungo's could do anything about. He refused to be taken to a muggle hospital and that was that.

_I guess you really_ _are cursed. _He whispered as she sat by his bedside one night in April, a little chuckle escaping his lips. When she came back with a coffee half an hour later, Husband number 6 was dead.

His newest book, _The Black widow: bad luck or murder?, _was never published.

…

_After the end of Blaise's fourth year at Hogwarts, the shape of Ms. Zabini's boggart changed._

_The first time she had faced a boggart in her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Ms. Zabini had been faced with a basilisk. It had been terrifying, but as she had yelled "Ridikulus!" and made the giant snake tie itself into a knot, it hadn't seemed that bad anymore._

_Her second time facing a boggart hadn't been that easy. She saw Regulus telling her he'd never loved her. Her 'funny thought' hadn't been very funny at all, but between herself and Husband number 4, they had managed to banish the thing._

_Now that, too, had changed._

_A dark, hooded figure stood before her, his face hidden behind a mask she had seen so many times before, yet could not recognize. The figure was clearly male, and something about him, about his posture, the way he held himself was just so familiar. He was tall and silent, and as he rolled up his sleeve, the Dark Mark burned her vision._

"_Regulus...?" She whispered, lowering her wand just a bit. Letting her guard fall._

_And then the mask cracked. It cracked in two and hit the ground, shattered into a thousand pieces._

_It wasn't Regulus._

_It was Blaise._

…

By the time Ms. Zabini got married again (her seventh and counting), she was no longer sure why she kept marrying time and time again.

It was a habit, she supposed. Or an addiction.

She liked the wedding dresses, and the parties. She liked the publicity. She liked the men.

Husband number 7 was an auror.

He liked his butterbeer with a drop of muggle alcohol, and was an avid fan of quidditch. He'd always tell her stories about his adventures at work, and Ms. Zabini would smile and humor him.

Then the war broke out again, and he was almost never home. They saw each other long enough to exchange good mornings and good nights, and even that was sometimes a maybe. He didn't notice when the son of a Death Eater all but actually moved into their house, and he sure as hell didn't notice Ms. Zabini going around with others behind his back.

When Husband number 7 died on duty, Ms. Zabini didn't feel anything.

It kind of scared her.

…

_After the war was done- won by the Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter- Blaise moved out of his mother's castle and hired a place in Diagon Alley. Ms. Zabini was pretty sure Theodore and him lived together._

_She tried to pay for him, for both of them, but they refused her help and all she ever heard of Blaise and Theodore came in the form of letters. His son kept her up-to-date with what was going on in his life and always assured her that he was doing fine. (As his mother, Ms. Zabini knew a lie when she saw one and she worried for both of them)._

_He never visited her, though she sometimes did see him and a couple of his friends around. They never stopped to talk to her. They never stopped to talk to anyone anymore. They kept their heads low and avoided any and all attention._

_The survivors of the war weren't kind to those who had been on the wrong side of it._

_Ms. Zabini sometimes wondered if she alone could see what this war had done to them,the irreversible damage it had caused to those children who used to laugh and play and be carefree like children always should be. But then she happened to see Narcissa Malfoy with her son one day, and she knew that she wasn't alone._

_Only Slytherins understood other Slytherins, and where they used to turn up their noses and sneer at each other, now the two women exchanged a nod._

_It was a long time before Blaise could come home and speak to her, before he could look her in the eyes again, but when he did, she was ready. She pulled him into a hug and whispered "Welcome home, sweetheart." into his ear, stroking his hair like she always used to when he was little._

_He didn't tell her what happened during his last year at Hogwarts, and she didn't force him. (She had heard the rumours about the Carrows and their classes, and she had read what the papers had to say about Blaise's seventh year at Hogwarts. She _knew_.)._

It's not your fault. _She told him time and time again. _Whatever happened, none of it is your fault.

_They fell asleep like that, just like they used to when Blaise was a child._

_When he visited her again, a few months later, Blaise showed her a book. (One of Theodore's, Ms. Zabini thought, because Blaise wouldn't be caught dead reading). It was Hermoine Granger's _'The Truth Behind Tom Riddle'_, and Ms. Zabini was tempted to flick her wand and burn it to ashes as soon as she set her eyes on it. But Blaise didn't let her._

_Instead he showed her a passage about halfway through the book, and once again it was that name stood out and made her heart stop._

Regulus Arcturus Black,_ it read, _An unsung hero.

_She wasn't sure how the truth about Regulus' disappearance made her feel. Hermoine Granger wrote in her book that he had been a hero and should be remembered as such- Ms. Zabini thought that he had been an idiot._

_He had been a kid who had joined a cause without knowing what would be expected of him. He had been a kid who got in way too deep and realized way too late that he only had one option left._

_(A foolish, wishful part of her wished that he had told her. They could have run away to some faraway land where no one would have ever found them.)_

_The fact that it all made sense now (the way he said "I love you" the night before he disappeared, and why he never told her anything) didn't make his death any easier._

_This time it was Blaise that hugged her. And when her tears had dried and she trusted herself to speak again, Ms. Zabini asked her son if he wanted to know more about his father._

_She figured that it was a conversation that was long overdue._


End file.
